


Tactics

by sellertape



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, SRS 2012, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:20:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sellertape/pseuds/sellertape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for SRS Bonus Round 4 (Speechless) - Lucifer is doing everything he can to convince Sam to say "yes" without actually speaking because he knows that Sam and he are MFEO and he doesn't need the devil's silver tongue to convince Sam of that.</p><p>This is getting scarily close to everything I never write. I don't know what happened.<br/>In a word: sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tactics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuarterClever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarterClever/gifts).



First, he’s Jess.

That goes rather less well than expected. True, he gets a kiss. Sam even tells him he loves him. And he can’t pretend the press of his true vessel’s lips against his neck didn’t send fizzes of raw creation through his veins. It was like the skin was greeting its real owner.

Whatever the humans, Michael, even God Himself argued, Lucifer knows a gift when he sees one. Hand crafted, made to fit.

Perfect.

There was just that damn technicality. And blonde hair and blue eyes were getting him nowhere. Sam spends all his time apologising, and while self-loathing was one of Lucifer’s favourite aromas, it doesn’t suit Sam. This boy who could have the world on its knees.

So then he’s Dean.

It’s a risk, he knows. A risk Sam would lurch away from the course, gruff chaos that was his brother. If Jess was a silk cushion, Dean was sandpaper. But if there was one thing Lucifer understood in these little favourites, it was their determination to want what was wrong for them. So he isn’t as surprised as he perhaps should be when he is given another kiss.

If a caress of the neck is enough to sting, the clash of mouths, teeth and tongue threatens to shatter his mask. It’s almost as though Sam is another person as well. Where Jess coaxed familiarity, coated in comfortable past and ideal future, Dean draws desperation from Sam, as though he has no idea when they will be able to touch again.

Desperation is something he can work with.

Ironic, really, he thinks as Sam lets himself be pushed back. All he wants is for Sam to trust him, to let him ply, shape, mould him, even for a moment, and he is resisted at every turn. But the one made for his own brother can have Sam begging in seconds. Too bad the y-word doesn’t count in dreams. Sam has hissed it at least five times already. Along with a name that reminds Lucifer none of this is because of him.

He considers Dean briefly, as he makes one of the man’s hands rake his brother’s scalp and the other trail slowly downwards. The thought of Michael propositioning Dean on even the same spectrum of Lucifer’s tactics makes him grin into Sam’s shoulder. He would have had to hang the man with his own intestines, apocalypse be damned. Perhaps Michael knew that.

No, he knew nothing. Politics was adopted when you wished to alter your place in creation, and was as foreign to Michael as seduction. He had never needed either.

Lucifer waits until the last possible moment, then sheds the glamour to feel Sam’s back arch even as horror makes his eyes blaze like home. He smothers the gasp with a kiss of his own, as if trying to taste if fear or lust is winning.

The fact that it's impossible to tell is taken as progress.

He takes a moment to memorise those eyes, to watch both the afterglow and terror fade into something else. Then he smiles a smile poisoned with promise and leaves Sam to boil in guilt, redoubling, no doubt, when his brother wakes up.

Leave the ambassadors to Michael. Lucifer doesn’t need words to prove to Sam what he can give him.


End file.
